Cache-coeur Blouse in Tokyo-honzome Tsumugi Cotton with Takewaku Motif
The past month has been a fun one, making 3 items! While waiting for the buttonhole materials for a French sleeved shirt project (posted here), I broke out a treasured item in my fabric stash to work on: a Tokyo-honzome dyed tsumugi cotton I found in July last year. The fabric is traditional wafuku fabric that, according to the seller, came from a vintage fabric bolt. It is light and soft: perfect for the climate here! As a whole, it also looks and feels unique: the tsumugi weave gives it a lovely texture and distinctive appearance, and the design is one of my favourite traditional Japanese motifs called tatewaku, a stylised motif of vertical wavy lines symbolising "rising steam". Not entirely sure if the stylised design is of leaf vines or wisteria...doesn't matter because I like it even more for that!
Unfortunately the information on the fabric label is way above my proficiency, and I had some help. I can only figure out that 登録 (touroku) means registration or register, 特選生地 (tokusen kiji) means specialty fabric, and 東京本染 (Tokyo-honzome) is a designated traditional craft form, and refers to fabric dyed in the chusen method (a form of resist-dyeing) from the Kantō region. This dyeing method is now often used to dye tenugui, Japan's very versatile "hand wipes". 三升染 is probably the manufacturer. That's about all I can glean about the fabric, and I wasn't able to find out more online about this.
Whatever the case, the fabric seemed to call for the creation of something contemporary with a touch of the traditional. So I made a Franken pattern, a cache-coeur wrap blouse with the kimono styled collar and drop sleeves, with the base pattern from Dress No.15 in Shiruetto no Kirei na Wanpīsu. For the collar, I took a page from Kimono Kara ~ Tenui de Tsukuru Shinpuru Rain no Fuku, Komono. Would have liked to make a knee-length dress instead, but had barely enough for the blouse, and none left for a sash.
Working with the fabric was a little harder than expected for 2 main reasons. First, I wanted to match up the motifs as far as possible. On this aspect, I think I screwed up the direction of the design when I cut the fabric. (੭ ˃̣̣̥ ㅂ˂̣̣̥)੭ु Oh well, there's always room for improvement.
Second reason is the weft of wafuku fabric is narrow. I had to splice together panels of this tsumugi cotton for portions of the pattern...making the process feel like I was trying to create a beautiful and seamless Frankenstein. (As if the pattern itself wasn't already a Frankenstein of several patterns....) E.g. for the "skirt" of the blouse, I had to piece together 6 separate panels. The sense of satisfaction and relief felt great, though, when it worked out. After this experience (albeit a simple one in comparison), I now better understand why many of the kimono remake pattern books on the market have the same few basic patterns. And I have even more respect for people who remake kimono into Western-style clothes.
Traditional wafuku fabric are long but narrow; they generally have a weft of around 36.8cm (14.5"), whereas modern-day and/or Western fabrics have a weft of between 100cm to 110cm (39" to 43"). By this, I mean non-wafuku fabrics, including cloth made in Japan, such as Japanese cottons and prints. The weft measurement of wafuku fabrics is too narrow for patterns of Western-styled and modern-day clothing, as the latter are designed with Western / modern-day cloth measurements as the base.
The narrow weft of wafuku fabric is probably an artifact of history, and a facet of the traditional craft of weaving in Japan. There's a succinct explanation on The Ardent Thread. Interestingly (to me anyway), it also speaks of how that industry is connected to the country's cultural/ethnic dress (besides the Chinese influences). Even more interesting when considered from a comparative perspective, e.g. vis-a-vis Europe. Fashion and the materials used can speak a lot about a country's, or a people's, culture and history. (Both the good and the bad.)
Sorry for going off tangent. Nonetheless, this is just one of the few reasons why making my own clothes is such a fun and creative process: each item has its own story, making the item mean more to me than just a piece of clothing. Perhaps too esoteric for many to care or appreciate. Perhaps this may even come across as self-absorbed. But I do like to know that not everything I wear came from some unnamed sweat-shop off the exploitation of some unknown, but no less human, stranger or child.
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| Cache-coeur+kimono-style collar blouse in Tokyo-honzome tsumugi cotton (on IG) |
Unfortunately the information on the fabric label is way above my proficiency, and I had some help. I can only figure out that 登録 (touroku) means registration or register, 特選生地 (tokusen kiji) means specialty fabric, and 東京本染 (Tokyo-honzome) is a designated traditional craft form, and refers to fabric dyed in the chusen method (a form of resist-dyeing) from the Kantō region. This dyeing method is now often used to dye tenugui, Japan's very versatile "hand wipes". 三升染 is probably the manufacturer. That's about all I can glean about the fabric, and I wasn't able to find out more online about this.
Whatever the case, the fabric seemed to call for the creation of something contemporary with a touch of the traditional. So I made a Franken pattern, a cache-coeur wrap blouse with the kimono styled collar and drop sleeves, with the base pattern from Dress No.15 in Shiruetto no Kirei na Wanpīsu. For the collar, I took a page from Kimono Kara ~ Tenui de Tsukuru Shinpuru Rain no Fuku, Komono. Would have liked to make a knee-length dress instead, but had barely enough for the blouse, and none left for a sash.
 |
| All I know is this is some kind of specialty fabric dyed in the Tokyo-honzome technique (on IG). |
Working with the fabric was a little harder than expected for 2 main reasons. First, I wanted to match up the motifs as far as possible. On this aspect, I think I screwed up the direction of the design when I cut the fabric. (੭ ˃̣̣̥ ㅂ˂̣̣̥)੭ु Oh well, there's always room for improvement.
Second reason is the weft of wafuku fabric is narrow. I had to splice together panels of this tsumugi cotton for portions of the pattern...making the process feel like I was trying to create a beautiful and seamless Frankenstein. (As if the pattern itself wasn't already a Frankenstein of several patterns....) E.g. for the "skirt" of the blouse, I had to piece together 6 separate panels. The sense of satisfaction and relief felt great, though, when it worked out. After this experience (albeit a simple one in comparison), I now better understand why many of the kimono remake pattern books on the market have the same few basic patterns. And I have even more respect for people who remake kimono into Western-style clothes.
 |
| A reason to make my own clothes: each item has its story. (on IG) |
The narrow weft of wafuku fabric is probably an artifact of history, and a facet of the traditional craft of weaving in Japan. There's a succinct explanation on The Ardent Thread. Interestingly (to me anyway), it also speaks of how that industry is connected to the country's cultural/ethnic dress (besides the Chinese influences). Even more interesting when considered from a comparative perspective, e.g. vis-a-vis Europe. Fashion and the materials used can speak a lot about a country's, or a people's, culture and history. (Both the good and the bad.)
Sorry for going off tangent. Nonetheless, this is just one of the few reasons why making my own clothes is such a fun and creative process: each item has its own story, making the item mean more to me than just a piece of clothing. Perhaps too esoteric for many to care or appreciate. Perhaps this may even come across as self-absorbed. But I do like to know that not everything I wear came from some unnamed sweat-shop off the exploitation of some unknown, but no less human, stranger or child.
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